


The Life of Bro Strider

by JPWard



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPWard/pseuds/JPWard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the hours before the start of the end of the world, Bro reflects on his life thus far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Life of Bro Strider

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic that was the start of what was supposed to be a much longer work. My intention had been to flesh out Bro's part in Homestuck, but I never got around to continuing with it. I think it works pretty well as a small stand-alone fic, though.

_At the ethereal cusp between universes powerful forces are amassing; eldritch gods that inhabit the endless void come to witness the end of a universe whose fate has been shrouded in uncertainty since its creation. Ultimate destruction and ultimate salvation are both equally likely, and the elder gods observe this anomaly with omniscient senses that are clouded by only a few of existence's final mysteries._

The digital clock underneath the television reads 1:43, the red numbers glowing like a brand in the darkness of the living room. Facing the dark TV screen is a worn futon, and on it sit two figures, one man and one puppet. Lil' Cal's plush mitts are folded serenely on his lap, his long legs stretching out in front of him to dangle off the edge of the seat. Beside him sits Bro, legs spread out casually with his arms folded across his chest. Despite the darkness both inside and outside the apartment, Bro is wearing his shades and hat, which are not things to be cast aside simply for lack of light. Silence spoiled only by the gentle hum of sleeping electronic equipment reigns over the scene. Dave's room is still after its occupant crash landed on the bed and into sleep an hour ago, and Bro has been sitting with Cal watching the minutes flit by on the DVD Player's digital display since midnight.

This is it, the end of the world as the human race knows it, and the only event that heralds the looming annihilation is the release of a much-anticipated game: SBURB. No one realizes just how close to oblivion the world is floating, how near death and destruction hover in the sky, but around the world four Guardians await The End with the implicit knowledge that for their wards, this is just The Beginning. A Father, a Mother, a Brother, and a Dog prepare to step aside and allow four kids to begin a journey that will facilitate their rise as Heroes. In an apartment complex in Texas, Bro Strider contemplates in darkness the way of life that is about to come to a close.

The products of Bro's life fill his small apartment. The electronic mixers, swords, stacks of GAMEBRO magazines, objects of his myriad interests lie about haphazardly. From behind the game console the plush rump of a smuppet juts out seductively, a mark of Bro's online puppet empire, years of hard work and dedication soon to be wiped out along with the rest of humanity's creations. Even though Dave's room is down the hall from the living room, Bro can faintly hear the sound of his younger bro's even breathing. Dave: one of the two most important things in Bro's life. The other most important thing is sitting next to him on the futon.

Bro turns his head to look at Cal. Cal has been with him since the very beginning. When they found Bro abandoned as a baby, he was wrapped safely in Cal's arms at the bottom of a ditch. Since day one Cal has never left his side. Throughout Bro's childhood as he was shuffled from foster home to foster home and from school to school, Cal was the only constant, stable thing in Bro's life. Cal was his companion and shield from the world. At night, he would cuddle up with Cal's soft body and fall asleep looking into those glassy blue eyes. There was something in Cal that Bro saw that other people couldn't. The only thing his caretakers and teachers saw was a beat-up, dirt-stained, slightly-disconcerting ventriloquist doll when, in Bro's eyes, Cal was so much more. In Cal's crooked gaze Bro saw age and wisdom, as if Cal was so much older than his physical body of wood and fabric and stuffing, like the glint of light off his polished eyes was the reflection of stars from galaxies ages old. When he held Cal, felt the rough orange fabric of his limbs scratching against his skin, Bro felt protected and loved.

As he grew older, the roles in their relationship reversed, and Bro became the one to protect and care for Cal as Cal had cared for him when he was young. With the money he began earning from his DJ gigs, Bro had Cal professionally cleaned and repaired, restored after all those years of being dragged around and stuffed in backpacks and slept on and hugged too roughly to keep away tears and anger. It was Bro, now, who shielded Cal from others and told Cal that he was special and loved when others pointed and laughed at the strange puppet. They just didn't understand Cal like he did. But that was okay because Cal had him.

As their relationship deepened and the connection between man and puppet strengthened, Bro became privy to some of the obscured wisdom that he had always seen lurking behind Cal's eyes. Sometimes he would hold Cal at night and swear that he could feel the motion of planets and the birth and death of stars as if every event in the universe was centered on Cal and radiated outward from him. And because Bro loved Cal and in Bro's heart he knew that Cal in some way returned that love, some of the cosmic knowledge that Cal possessed leaked into Bro. He would catch glimpses of things, not visions or images but bits and pieces of knowing that Cal passed on to him. Bro could see Purpose in Cal and Purpose in himself. Over the years, a skeleton image of the future implanted itself in Bro's mind, and he learned about the Game, and Dave, although he had not yet arrived, and Dave's Purpose within the Game and, to an extent, his own fate, though that part was fuzzy. Like most instances of cosmic prescience, certain details would illuminate themselves, but most were indistinct and muddled, there to give shape to the background and impart limited relevance to the knowledge that was given.

But despite whatever overarching design the universe may have had for them, Bro and Cal mostly just lived day by day in Bro's small apartment, mixing sweet jams and laying the foundations for what would become an internet empire.

One day in early December, Bro looked out the window of his bedroom to see something glinting in the afternoon sky. A piece of extraterrestrial rock was descending through the atmosphere in a veil of flame. As he stared at the burning meteor, Bro felt the tug of an unnamable force at the edges of his life and knew what it was the meteor was bringing to Earth. It landed only a few blocks from the apartment complex, where a few moments before Bro's favorite record shop had stood, and Bro was there when the dust settled to find a baby sitting atop a dead horse in the crater created by the impact.

As he climbed into the crater to retrieve the baby and its dead companion, Bro felt in his pocket the press of sleek metal and plastic against his thigh. From his jeans he drew out a pair of miniature shades and looked at the baby in front of him. These shades had been made for Cal, but when Bro had presented them to him, they just didn't seem appropriate; maybe it was the fact that Bro couldn't see Cal's eyes behind them. But whatever the reason, Bro had slipped the shades into his pocket where they had remained until this moment. Picking up the baby, Bro knew what these shades had been meant for all along.

That was how Dave had come into the picture: with a dead horse and impossibly cool shades.

It was tough in the beginning, raising Dave. The money Bro got from DJing wasn't exactly enough to support a kid with, but he scraped together what he could and improvised for the rest. A staple of Dave's baby years was a set of bibs that Bro had made using some (freshly acquired) especially unique material. Because he couldn't leave Dave alone in the apartment, not even with Cal, Bro found himself taking fewer and fewer gigs. With a need for money and a copious amount of time to spend online, Bro threw himself into his smuppet enterprises. He had started doing stuff online with puppets for fun, but when he realized that people would pay for his work, he found an unexpected way to supplement his meager income. Eventually the whole operation burgeoned into an internet sensation, and Bro didn't have to worry so much about money anymore.

And then there was actually raising Dave. Bro didn't know the first thing about babies or raising kids, but he learned. There were many frantic internet searches and calls to the pediatrician that all ran along the lines of "Is this normal? Are babies supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do?" But in the end, everything would always turn out okay. It was always just another cold or a superficial injury or some strange developmental thing that babies did as they grew up. Nothing to worry about.

And of course Cal was a part of it too, lending moral support and constantly reassuring Bro that he wasn't messing up this kid that had crash landed into their lives.

When Dave grew out of the crib Bro had purchased at a secondhand store the day after Dave arrived, Bro invested in a futon and moved into the living room so Dave could have a room to himself. And when Bro saved up money to get a new mixing table, he gave Dave his old one and taught him how to produce sweet jams. Bro loved teaching Dave things and watching him grow up. Many nights were spent in front of the TV battling it out on the x-box (Bro always won and Dave would storm off to his room in frustration while Cal and Bro high-fived behind him), and as soon as Dave was old enough, Bro was teaching him how to fight. Surprise sword battles were a near daily occurrence in the Strider household. Katanas and shitty broadswords would always turn up in strange (though not unexpected) places; this event would sometimes be coupled with a sudden and unsettling appearance by Cal and was always followed by STRIFE.

There was only one time Dave beat Bro in a battle: it had been by accident that the tip of Dave's sword had caught Cal under the arm and sliced off the limb in a spray of white stuffing. Bro had dropped his katana and knelt down next to the injured puppet in a flurry of emotion, and Dave had laid the blade of his sword against his Bro's unguarded back. Bro didn't say anything, just gathered up Cal and quickly absconded, leaving Dave with a sick knot curling and uncurling in his stomach. Dave didn't see Bro for two days after that happened, and there wasn't another battle for three weeks, which was long enough to set Dave to wondering if there ever would be again. But then one night Bro ambushed Dave as he was coming out of the bathroom, and it was like the incident had never happened. Bro had carefully stitched up Cal and never said a word about it.

For thirteen years Bro and Cal cared for Dave, and as Dave grew into adolescence, Bro felt again the tug of Purpose and overarching design in Dave's life and his. Bro knew that he was preparing Dave for something, giving Dave the skills he would need to accomplish things he couldn't even dream of. But despite the greatness to which Dave might ascend, it was never with Dave's destiny in mind that Bro raised him. He loved Dave regardless and just wanted him to be an awesome kid. Dave's life would have been filled with epic sword battles even if they weren't also serving the universe's vast cosmic plan.

And everything, regardless of the absence of Bro's conscious intentions, has led up to this day, the last day of the world as they know it. Dave is an extraordinary kid, and Bro can't be prouder of him. Today is the day that Dave gets to prove himself, and Bro . . . well, Bro has his own part to play in it. Most of the details are fuzzy, and he's blind to his own ultimate fate, but he knows enough. He'll just have to trust in his instincts to get him through the parts he's not privileged to know.

The clock's red digital display blinks momentarily as the time changes from 1:59 to 2:00, and Bro reaches out to place a hand on top of Cal's folded mitts.

"It'll be me and you to the end, Cal," he whispers. The back of his throat is hot and constricted. The thought of this life ending is terrifying; it's the only one he's ever known. But no matter what happens today when the sun comes up and the game starts, as long as Cal is by his side it won't matter. As long as they're together.

"You and me, Cal."

Bro gives Cal's hands a gentle squeeze and runs a thumb down one of Cal's smooth cheeks,

"You and me."


End file.
